


Somewhere Safe, Somewhere Warm

by agreatwave



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Canon Compliant, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27989442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agreatwave/pseuds/agreatwave
Summary: A look at what might have happened between the end of 3x09 and the start of 3x10or: Isak rescues Even right back
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 24
Kudos: 96





	Somewhere Safe, Somewhere Warm

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Skam fic! I’ve always loved that Even doesn’t say anything in 3x09 and that the first time we hear his voice again is in the next episode. My headcanon for 3x10 is that when Even says hi to Isak when he wakes up, it’s the first time he’s spoken. Talking can be completely exhausting when you’re depressed, and I wanted to try my hand at what that would actually look like. Happy four year anniversary to this wonderful episode.

***

They don’t let go for a long time. They stand there, motionless but for their breath, frozen in a moment between almost-too-late and what-happens-next like tiny figures in a snow globe. Isak grips Even as tightly as he can, trying to make sure Even can feel him through the layers of clothing and the fog in Even’s mind that separates them. Isak is still trying to calm his breathing, erratic from the run, the fear, the relief, the . . . love, because what else could love possibly be if not this? He focuses on the feeling of Even’s body pressed against his, warm and real even through his thick coat: the rise and fall of his back, his breath, warm and fluttering against Isak’s neck, and his hands clutching Isak right back, holding on tight to the lifeline Isak finally threw him. Isak desperately wants to cry, but he can’t do that yet because right now, he might be the only solid thing in Even’s world.

Even shivers, and Isak’s suddenly, accutely aware of the cold again. Oslo in December won’t be defeated by the adrenaline still coursing hotly through Isak’s veins. Even must be even colder, so Isak finally pulls back and meets his eyes again, blue-grey and dull in a way Isak’s never seen them, locked onto Isak’s face like Even can’t understand that he’s really seeing him.

Looking into those eyes, every part of Isak knows what he needs to do, a rare and precious feeling. He needs to get Even somewhere safe, somewhere warm, and he needs to not let him out of his sight. Not tonight. For Isak’s sake as much as Even’s.

Isak carefully slides his hand down from Even’s shoulder to curl around his icy fingers. Even’s eyes drift to where their hands meet.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Isak prods quietly.

Even keeps looking down at their hands like they might have an answer he’s searching for. Slowly, he gives some approximation of a nod, just the barest tilt of his head really. A sign of life. Isak gives his hand a gentle tug, pulling Even in the direction of the tram. Even lets himself be led, steps slower and heavier than usual, for once not striding confidently ahead of Isak, knowing he’ll follow. 

On the ride home, Even sits by the window, the side of his head resting against the fogged glass. Isak’s body is a protective barrier between him and the rest of the world. Isak is grateful that there aren’t many people on the tram with them, just a few tired commuters dotted throughout the car, paying them no mind. Isak and Even sit in silence, not even really touching that much beyond where their thighs brush together with the movement of the tram and their hands, still intertwined and resting between them. Even stares out the window at nothing or maybe inward at something Isak can’t reach. His lashes flutter from time to time like his lids are too heavy to hold up. In the unforgiving flourescent light, Isak can see the blue tinge, like ink smudges under Even’s eyes, the red rims of them, his cracked lips, the waxy pale pallour of his skin, and the unwashed tendrils of hair escaping from his hat. 

He’s so beautiful.

Isak nudges Even gently when they’re nearing his stop, and Even comes up from wherever he’s submerged enough to follow Isak off the tram. His feet move sluggishly, and Isak can sense the effort it takes him to lift them. Even’s hand is limp in Isak’s as they walk in the direction of the Kollectiv. His fingers curl around Isak’s more out of instinct than intention. It doesn’t really occur to Isak until they’re halfway down the street that he’s been holding a boy’s hand in public without even thinking about it for the past twenty minutes. He wishes he could have done it under better circumstances, so Even would know that it’s something he wants to do, not just something he’s doing because Even seems like he might float away without a tether. All the fears that were holding him back just a little over a week ago seem so small to him now, faced with this more breakable version of the first boy who ever wanted to hold his hand.

Somewhere down the street, drunken laughter rings out into the frozen air, and Isak tightens his grip on Even’s hand, feeling increasingly urgent the closer they get to the flat. He wants to get Even inside, away from everything harsh and loud and cold, where it will be just the two of them and Isak’s soft sheets.

Eskild and Noora aren’t home, which is a Godsend because the last thing Even needs is Isak’s nosy flatmates getting in his face, but it also scares him a bit because it means there’s no one but Isak here to be the real adult. There’s a light on in Linn’s room, but Isak knows she’s unlikely to venture out this late. After shedding their boots and heavy layers in the hallway on autopilot, they move through the apartment silently, the echoes of louder, happier Isaks and Evens following them to Isak’s bedroom.

Isak shuts the door softly behind them, breathing a sigh of relief. He doesn’t turn on the light, leaving them in just the moonlight shining through Isak’s shitty, ineffectual curtains. The shadows gather in Even’s gaunt cheeks, and Isak wonders how much he’s had to eat this week, but pushes the thought aside. A problem for tomorrow. For now, Isak sifts quickly through a pile of clean-ish clothes on the floor, fishing out a pair of sweatpants. He hands them to Even, who’s still standing right where Isak left him at the foot of the bed, blinking tiredly. Isak turns around to give him some privacy, busying himself by stripping himself of his own clothing and slipping into sweats, not bothering to change out of his t-shirt. When he turns back around, Even is waiting for him in sweatpants that end well-above his ankles, and Isak’s heart stumbles a bit in his chest.

Isak climbs into bed and pulls back the covers on Even’s side, wordlessly inviting him in. It’s not even 22:30, but Even looks ready to collapse, and Isak’s not going anywhere Even isn’t. Even shuffles forward, eyes cast down, and eases himself down into bed. The oversized t-shirt he’s wearing makes him look thinner than he really is. Fragile. He lies on his side so that he’s curled toward Isak, but he doesn’t make eye contact again or move to touch him. He doesn’t react when Isak pulls the covers over his shoulder and smoothes them down, just sinks further into the mattress, closes his eyes, and lets out a sigh so exhausted that Isak’s heart clenches painfully. One tired tear leaks out of Even’s eye, slipping down his cheek and wetting the pillow below him. Isak feels his own eyes prick in response. 

“You can go to sleep now. I’ll be right here,” Isak whispers. 

Even falls asleep quickly, going under practically the moment he lays down. He looks small and young and still so tired even while he’s sleeping. Isak can feel his breath warm between them where his mouth is open slightly and see the slow rise and fall of his shoulder like the outline of a mountain in the dark. His cheek is still wet from the tear’s trail, the moonlight catching on the slick track. Isak finds himself staring at it, but doesn’t reach to wipe it away, afraid to wake him.

Instead, he settles in next to Even, knowing he won’t sleep tonight, content to watch him sleep, safe and warm here with Isak. Everything else can wait until morning.

He’ll be right here.

***


End file.
